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‘And he is in league with the Daughter of Darkness?’
‘So it would seem.’
Thea studied him critically. ‘Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me everything?’
Because I’m not and you’re too smart for me, Wilder thought, but instead he sighed. ‘I tell you what I can,’ he told her. ‘But you are still an apprentice and I am still a Warsword.’
‘I’m also a Guardian of the midrealms. I, too, am tasked with defending it from evil,’ Thea argued. ‘What do I not understand about these half-wraiths, Wilder? What is coming for us that I am blind to?’
Wilder drew an exhausted breath, glancing around at the guards, who tried to hide their interest. ‘Not here.’
Thea looked like she meant to continue arguing, but his weariness must have shown, for she sighed. ‘Fine. The king has invited us to dine with him this evening. There’s to be an intimate gathering of nobility.’
Wilder didn’t hide his cringe. Gods, the last thing he felt like doing was entertaining the gaping stares and moronic questions of Harenth’s elite.
‘Warsword or not, I think it would be a mistake not to go,’ Thea ventured, seeming to read his mind.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘We’ll need to wash up and —’
‘King Artos offered us rooms,’ Thea said hopefully.
‘Did he now?’
Wilder never stayed within any royal household if he could help it. Though it technically wasn’t supposed to curry favour, he had never shrugged off the feeling that it set certain expectations with some of the kings and queens. Talemir had always warned him of such things; a night’s stay might come back to haunt one of their kind further down the road in the form of an innocent favour that wasn’t all that innocent. But Wilder found that he couldn’t deny Thea a night of luxury, not after everything. It had been a tough road since leaving Delmira, even by his standards.
‘Lead the way, then, Princess.’ He caught the flicker of annoyance in her eyes, but she tugged on his sleeve. Wilder followed, keen to put as much distance between himself and the dungeons as possible.
When they reached the main part of the palace foyer once more, a servant was waiting for them, their packs at his feet. Wilder was glad for that. It meant that their horses had been looked after, despite what had occurred in the alcove by the guardhouse. The chain of events whirled in his mind, as did the list of problems that now chased him, but he swiped his pack from the marble floor and motioned for the servant to guide them to their rooms —
Room.
Singular.
The servant opened the doors to a breathtaking suite. Its design was clear.
There was only one bed.
Either Artos was passionate about Thezmarr’s tradition of masters and apprentices bunking together, or he suspected there was something more between Wilder and Thea. Wilder didn’t like that notion at all.
Thea had killed the mercenaries from the storehouse and Wilder had disposed of their leader, but had there been more of them? Had others seen them in the alcove moments before they’d been drugged and captured? It was possible, and it was just as possible that someone had reported back to Artos…
Thea hadn’t seemed to notice or question these things. Instead, she dropped her pack in the centre of the room and spun around, wide-eyed, drinking in the silks draped from the four-poster bed, the unnecessarily large hearth and the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the whole of Harenth, the city glimmering below.
She let out a low whistle. ‘Have you ever seen anything like it?’
Wilder had to choke back a laugh at the irony. Had she grown up in her own kingdom, she would have been used to such riches and wealth. The guest quarters of a palace might have meant nothing to her, when the palace itself was hers…
The servant cleared his throat from the door. ‘Hot water has been drawn for the bathing chambers, Warsword Hawthorne. A range of clothing has been selected by our top-tier clothier; you’ll find several selections for you both in the wardrobes.’ The servant gestured towards the rich mahogany armoires on the far side of the room. ‘There is a bell just here. Do not hesitate to ring should you require anything else. You are guests of the king. Your comfort is paramount. His Majesty King Artos requests your presence for the evening meal in an hour’s time. Shall I have someone come to escort you?’
‘We can find our way,’ Wilder said gruffly, watching Thea spot the balcony beyond the patio doors and run to it with a shout of glee.
The servant pressed three fingers to his left shoulder and bowed his head before he left, closing the doors with a click behind him.
Outside, Thea was leaning against the parapet, still marvelling at the sprawling city below. Wilder wanted to go to her, to finish what they’d started in the alcove, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Shame washed over him. Gods, he was hiding so much from her, after they’d sworn to be honest with one another.
The lost princess of Delmira had no idea that the Daughter of Darkness, the Warswords of Thezmarr and the rulers of the midrealms hunted her and her sister. She had no idea just how fragile everything was right now, and it was his fault. But what good would come of telling her? She was already so volatile, with the power that raged inside her and the piece of jade around her neck that ruled her fate.
No, he couldn’t add another thing to that list of burdens.
